


You Can't Leave Me

by lavenderlotion



Series: Ficlets for: nearly 200 writing prompts [24]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Protective Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall is a Bad Alpha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-27
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-29 11:25:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15072170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lavenderlotion/pseuds/lavenderlotion
Summary: “No one cares what happens to me!” Peter roared, his eyes burning electric blue as his fangs shot out. He was panting, a feral edge to his eyes that Stiles had only even seen a few times before.“Peter,” Stiles said, stepping close again, not feeling an ounce of fear at getting close to Peter while he was still partly wolfed out. “Please don’t hurt me like this.”





	You Can't Leave Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MissLee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissLee/gifts).



> big thanks to [syriala](https://archiveofourown.org/users/syriala) for helping me brainstorm!

Stiles was freaking out. He—he was freaking the fuck out. He was terrified that he was going to be too late, that he wasn’t going to get to the clinic in time and that he wouldn’t be able to change Peter’s mind. The phone call from Scott had him reeling, his heart beating away far too fast in his chest, tight with fear and adrenaline as he drove as quickly as he could.

Goddammit, he was going to  _ kill _ Peter for making him feel like this. The stupid, uncaring idiot. Stiles was...well, he was going to do something to the dumbass, but he was too worried to think about what, right now, and he took a corner sharply, his tires screeching against the pavement.  _ Fuck _ . He didn’t let himself think about why he cared so much, not right now, when he could hardly breathe, panic gripping at his chest at the thought of being too late, of not getting there in time. 

He was out of his seat the minute he had parked, tripping through the front door of the clinic. The pack’s cars were all outside, so Stiles didn't waste a second before he was going deeper into the building, wanting,  _ needing, _ to get to Peter before anything happened. He and Peter were  _ something _ —unnamed and cautious but important, so important to Stiles—and he wasn't going to let Peter do this.

Stiles slammed through the door to the back room, his entire body sagging with momentary relief when he laid eyes on Peter, standing near the back of the room, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk that didn’t reach his eyes. Everyone turned to look at him but Stiles didn’t care, just strode straight up to Peter and poked the man in his—very, very firm—chest.

“You are not doing this,” Stiles said, starring Peter down until the man dropped his eyes.

“It’s the best option,” Peter said, but his voice was flat. 

Stiles was familiar with the tone from long nights spent on the phone with one another. Sometimes it was because Stiles couldn't stand the darkness and sometimes it was because Peter couldn't stand the silence, and, more often than not, Stiles found himself on the phone with Peter late into early hours of the morning and this—this was what Peter sounded like then, when he was tired and defeated.

“We’re not doing this,” Stiles said, and he flattened his hand to feel Peter’s heartbeat against his palm. When they had first gotten...closer, and Stiles had still been guarded and wary, Peter would place Stiles’ hand over his heart to show Stiles he was being honest in the only way he knew how. 

“But Stiles—” Scott’s voice was loud in the silence of the medical room, self-righteous in its tone.

“No, Scott. Peter isn’t giving up his life. We can find another way.” Stiles told him, but he didn't turn around, caught up in looking over Peter.

“There  _ isn’t _ another way,” Scott said, though it sounded more like a whine than anything else.

“I said no, Scott,” Stiles repeated, and this time he did look over, only to find Scott staring him down with his arms crossed. 

“Peter is doing this,” Scott said again, and Stiles felt the alpha command roll over him, the power Scott put into his words.

Stiles took a step forward, narrowing his eyes and feeling a flash or vindictive pleasure when panic shot through Scott’s face. “This isn’t an option. Find another way.”

“Stiles, c’mon. This could get rid of the fairies, and it’s just Peter—”

“We are not doing this!” Stiles screamed, slamming both hands onto the metal table, his spark exploding out of him, forcing everyone but himself and Peter to stumble back several steps. 

“This is not your decision to make!” Peter said, after several beats of silence wherein the pack stared at Stiles like he was a stranger.

Stiles turned on him, once again putting himself into Peter’s personal space, his magic still humming under his skin. “I am not arguing with you, Peter. You are not killing yourself, I don’t care what dumb ideas you have, but I’m not going to let you—”

“No one cares what happens to me!” Peter roared, his eyes burning electric blue as his fangs shot out. He was panting, a feral edge to his eyes that Stiles had only even seen a few times before. 

“Peter,” Stiles said, stepping close again, not feeling an ounce of fear at getting close to Peter while he was still partly wolfed out. “Please don’t hurt me like this.”

Peter’s face fell, his supernatural features melting away as he reached for Stiles. He went forward easily, pulling Peter against him and letting the wolf bury his face in his neck. Stiles rubbed his hand up and down Peter’s back in slow strokes, keeping his other firmly gripped around the back of Peter’s neck until he was no longer shaking. 

“We are not doing this,” Stiles said again, and even though he didn’t remove his face from Peter’s hair, his voice echoed through the room. 

He listened quietly as the rest of the pack—not his pack, not anymore—filtered out of the room, and he kept his hold on Peter until they were all alone. Stiles could hardly breathe through the relief and the lingering fear, so, so thankful that he had managed to get here soon enough to stop Peter from sacrificing himself.

“You can’t leave me,” Stiles whispered, and his voice broke as he spoke. 

Peter didn’t say anything, but he nodded against Stiles’ neck and tightened his arms where they were wrapped around his waist. 

**Author's Note:**

> i had a lot of fun writing this one!  
> [my tumblr!](https://lavender-lotion.tumblr.com/)


End file.
